


Yours, Mine, and Ours

by woozifi



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, like....the lightest angst of all time, the death happened before the fic starts don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woozifi/pseuds/woozifi
Summary: Six months after the death of Soonyoung’s wife, Seokmin moves in with his newly-widowed best friend to help take care of his two kids.Aka the Full House-inspired AU I wrote for the Sun and the Stars SoonSeok Fic Fest!





	Yours, Mine, and Ours

“This’ll be fun,” Seokmin says brightly. The boxy, cherry-red Kia Soul that Soonyoung’s been driving since 2013 is still one of the ugliest cars he’s ever seen, but it has the sense of charming familiarity only ugly things you’ve had for a very long time can give you. There are dinosaur stickers on the right rear seat window from Yeona’s kindergarten field trip to the museum, permanent grooves in the leather after years of overexertion in the form of child booster seats—one still remains, a heavy grey contraption with far too many straps and buckles than Seokmin is comfortable with. If he were to turn around in the passenger seat to look back, he’d probably see goldfish crumbs and dried apple juice stains that have gone unnoticed long enough to blend into the Kia’s dark interior. The car may be ugly, but it still feels a little like home. “It’ll be like college all over again.”

Soonyoung’s eyes are focused on the road, slowing dutifully at a yellow light until the car rolls to a silky-smooth stop, something he’s mastered after years of practice driving home sleeping children. He still has it in him to snort. “Buddy, I _remember_ college. I sincerely hope it won’t be.”

“Hey!” Seokmin says, offended. “From what I recall, _you_ were the genius mastermind behind at least two-thirds of those adventures.”

The traffic light blinks green and Soonyoung hits the gas, snickering when the jolt in momentum makes Seokmin smack the back of his head into the headrest with a silly _“oof”_ noise. Seokmin slaps his arm playfully and says, “Look, man, it’ll be great. You don’t have to worry about a thing. The kids love their Uncle Seokseok.”

At the next red light, Soonyoung turns to look at him with a grin and a raised eyebrow. It’s funny to see how much they have grown in the years they’ve known each other, make note of what parts of them have changed and which haven’t.

In Soonyoung’s case, it’s mischievously bright, youthful eyes growing strained from aging eyesight and a refusal to wear glasses, laugh lines beginning to carve their way deeper into his skin as time goes by. It’s the tiny premature grey hairs growing from his scalp that he hasn’t noticed yet or Seokmin knows he’d be reaching for the hair dye, a result of a half-year of grief and stress he hasn’t quite been able to manage.

In Seokmin’s case, it’s the crow’s feet that fan out like cracking glass or the grooves of peach pits in the corners of his eyes every time he smiles, which is often. It’s the aches in his knees and lower back when he bends down for too long. It’s the weight that comes with not being a child anymore, even if he still likes to think he’s one at heart. It’s a heaviness that comes with taxes and bills and jobs and losing things he never thought he’d lose until he did.

“Well, I did always wish I had a housemaid,” Soonyoung sing-songs at him. “Someone who’ll cook and clean for me and do my laundry. I guess having you around really will be fun, _Theokkie._ ”

“Oh, shut up,” Seokmin says, lightly punching his shoulder. “Only my favourite baby goddaughter is allowed to call me that. You’ve always been jealous that she said my name first before ‘Dada’.”

“Damn right I am.” Soonyoung’s fingers drum into the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I think Jaemi was the most annoyed, though. I’ve never seen someone so passive-aggressively serve someone _japchae_ before in my life.”

They laugh, but it rings kind of hollow. Jaemi is still a bit of a sore spot, even though it’s been six months and Soonyoung’s been trying to move on and make peace with it. Seokmin looks at his best friend and wishes he knew some way to make Soonyoung feel better.

Then again, that’s what he’s doing right now. Moving in with him to make him feel better. They may have been best friends for almost thirteen years, a bond strengthened by hundreds and thousands of roots, tied down by accumulated memories and adventures, but Jaemi had been his _wife._ His partner. His lifetime companion _._ His in-sickness-and-in-health-will-death-do-they-part. This is a kind of hurt not even a best friend will be able to magically fix.

Seokmin can be there for him whenever he needs, but in the end this is something Soonyoung needs to pull through on his own.

“Hey, Seok,” Soonyoung says slowly, still looking at him. His voice drops into a soft hush, vulnerable, the kind of voice their normally boisterous personalities only turn to when they’re having a serious discussion about their lives and the future at two a.m. “Thank you. You know. For doing this. It really means a lot to me.”

“Anytime, buddy,” Seokmin says, and he means it. “Also …”

“What?”

A car horn blares angrily behind them. “Green light.”

Soonyoung whips his head back around and curses. Indeed, the traffic light is now a blinding, stubborn, vindictive green, and who knows how long it’s been that colour. “Fuck you, Seok, why didn’t you tell me?”

Seokmin cackles as they shoot across the intersection, Soonyoung sheepishly raising his hand to indicate an apology to the cars behind him the whole way through.

 

Soonyoung’s mother has been staying with Soonyoung on and off for a couple months now, in an effort to give him some company and help keep an eye on the girls. Half the reason why Seokmin is moving into the apartment is because someone needs to be there to take care of the kids, and Soonyoung is a thirty-one-year-old man who can no longer handle having his mother living under the same roof as him like he’s a teenager anymore; the other half of the reason is because Mrs. Kwon may live in Yongin just like them, but she has to commute from Soonyoung’s home in Suji District to her home in Cheoin District, and it’s just too much for her to deal with anymore.

“Seokmin!” she greets once they walk in, giving him a fond hug and a motherly kiss on the cheek. “How are you? Do you have everything with you?”

“I’m all packed and ready to move in, auntie!” he says cheerily. “What about you? Are you all packed?”

“Oh, I only have a small suitcase with me, most of my stuff is still back in my house.”

“What’s this?” Soonyoung complains as he wanders in, several bags tucked precariously under his arms and Seokmin’s backpack slung over one shoulder, upsetting his balance slightly. “You’ve got time to hug and kiss Seokmin, but none for your own son? Mom, I’m hurt, I’m really hurt.”

“I can hug and kiss you anytime I want,” Soonyoung’s mother says curtly, although she does lean over to give her son a peck on the cheek as well. “But I haven’t seen darling Seokmin in so long and he’s doing such a big favour for us all, it’s the least I can do.”

“My rent was too high in the other place anyway, auntie; honestly, it’s Soonyoung doing me a favour.” Seokmin laughs, looking around the apartment.

The entryway leads directly into the living room, a single island counter separating the wooden floorboards from the creamy white tiles that make up the open-area kitchen on the opposite end. The tan-coloured leather couch is overloaded with blankets and fluffy pillows and oversized stuffed animals that go up as tall as Seokmin’s waist, there are DVDs of kids’ movies and Pororo on the TV stand, and several toddler-sized toys that must belong to Yubin are scattered around the room. A hallway leads out towards the bedrooms and bathrooms. The layout of this place is almost more familiar than his own old flat, considering how many times he’s visited and ended up sleeping over.

_(He can remember Jaemi laughing when she wakes up in the morning to find the two of them passed out in the living room on the couch, after one too many beers and long talks past midnight. He remembers her shaking her head, brown shoulder-length hair swinging, hands on her hips.)_

_(“It’s like college all over again,” she says, scowling at them. “Seokmin, you might as well just move in.”)_

_(She can’t hold the expression long before her lips twitch and she starts smiling again. She has a beautiful smile. Her lips curl up and show her upper gums, her eyes squish shut from the muscles lifting in her cheeks, and her mouth grows wide enough for Seokmin to almost count every individual tooth. It’s a weird smile, a quirky smile, and like most weird smiles it translates back into being beautiful. When Soonyoung was giving his wedding speech he said he fell in love with her smile first.)_

“Oh, yes, ‘darling’ Seokmin,” Soonyoung mimics childishly, and his mom glowers at him and gives him a harmless knock upside the head. “Aw, mom, come on! Seok, I’ll put your things in the guest room, alright?”

“Thanks, man.”

As he says this, Seokmin hears a shrill, childlike scream and a five-year-old girl comes barrelling down the hallway, a SpongeBob sticker plastered onto her skinned knees, a woven bracelet of pink and black plastic strips dangling from one of her wrists. At the sight of Seokmin, she screams again and vaults herself into his arms, and he laughs and swings her around with the momentum.

“Uncle Seokmin!” she squeals, beaming. She’s still young, but her smile already looks so similar to her mother’s. In her child’s mind, she associates Seokmin with summer days, warm hands holding hers as they walk to the nearest convenience store for popsicles; the comforting sight of the back of his shirt next to the firm shoulders of her father as they share a beer on the balcony; a man she’s known all her life who came for parties and casual Friday evenings, and made her parents joke and laugh more just with his presence alone; and with him comes happiness and fun, and she adores him.

“Heya, Yeona!” Seokmin says, pressing a big smacking kiss to the side of her head and making her cringe away with a laugh. “You’re growing up so fast! Are you here to say bye to grandma?”

Yeona nods vigorously, hair bouncing, then turns around to yell, “Yubin! Yubin, granny’s leaving!”

A two-year-old toddler comes waddling down the hall as fast as her chubby roly-poly legs can carry her. At the last second, she veers off course to attach herself to Soonyoung’s leg as he’s carrying Seokmin’s bags towards the guest room. Soonyoung squawks and laughs a little nervously, balancing unsteadily with the baby tugging at the fabric of his jeans and trying his very best not to drop anything.

“No, Yubin!” he says, slightly frantically as a couple bags begin to slip. “Yubin you have to let go of daddy, daddy needs to put these away for Uncle Seokkie, okay? Yubin, look, Uncle Seokkie!”

“Over here, Yubin!” Seokmin calls, transferring Yeona to one side of him so he can squat down and hold his free arm out. “It’s me! Did you miss me?”

Yubin’s attention finally lands on him and she smiles, revealing a mouthful of baby teeth, and she toddles over into his arms obediently. “Theokkie!” she announces at the top of her lungs, the best pronunciation of his name that she can manage at her age. She’s a bit too young to understand everything just yet, but when she grows a little older one of her first memories will be of Seokmin comforting her when she fell and scraped her knee on a sidewalk. Soonyoung heaves a sigh of relief and bolts for the guest room before one of his daughters decides to attack him again.

“Come on, kids,” Seokmin says, straightening up with both girls clinging on either side of him, trying to hide his amused smile and failing horribly. “Grandma’s leaving, say bye to granny.”

Mrs. Kwon gives them all a fond kiss and hug goodbye before leaving, the kids waving sadly after her. Soonyoung comes back before they can really get upset and helps take Yubin from Seokmin’s overladen arms, the house settling into an almost comfortable calm. It’s a little strange to realize that there is some form of permanence to Seokmin’s stay, that he’ll be here for the unforeseeable future until Soonyoung gets back on his feet, but it’s not as awkward as it could’ve been if he had been less familiar with this house and this family.

“Mom left the girls’ schedules in your room,” he tells Seokmin, rocking Yubin slightly as she clings to his shirt and stares impassively at Yeona making faces at her. “Even drew up a chart and everything.”

“She didn’t need to do that.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my mother for you. Anyway, you hungry? I can make lunch or whatever.” Soonyoung’s head turns towards the direction of the kitchen, a slightly concerned look on his face. “I mean, I can _try_ making lunch. Or whatever.”

“Yeah, no. Not on your life.” Seokmin lowers Yeona to the ground and rolls back his sleeves up to his elbows. “Alright, kids, your daddy might poison us all with his cooking, so it looks like you’ll be lucky enough to have your Uncle Seokmin’s food from now on!” He playfully presses his hands to his hips, voice bright and enthusiastic to help keep their grandmother’s departure from weighing too heavily on the kids’ minds. “What would you like? Spaghetti?”

“We’re out of pasta,” Soonyoung mutters into Yubin’s wispy hair.

“Uh, never mind then. How about some—” Seokmin looks Soonyoung’s way, “— _naengmyeon?”_

Soonyoung shakes his head.

“Soon, if you’re telling me you don’t have enough stuff to make even _gimbap_ , I swear to god—”

“I’m a failure as a chef, sue me!” Soonyoung wails.

Seokmin tries to scold him, but Yubin and Yeona are giggling at their father’s overly dramatic whines, and Seokmin himself has always had a penchant for the theatrics (fitting, considering the two of them first met in an improv class), so after they put on a little show for the girls Seokmin helps them lace up their shoes and they all head out for some desperately-needed groceries.

 

The truth is, Soonyoung doesn’t really know what to do with himself when he doesn’t have Jaemi. Seokmin knows this.

Before Jaemi was a part of their lives, the two of them were the college best friends that went out running around the quad in tank tops and shorts in the middle of winter on a dare, trying out various alcoholic drinks that should never be mixed together until they’re both groaning in the bathroom, ditching classes to go eat brunch. They had fun, but they were definitely nothing but dumb kids messing around.

It was Jaemi who made Soonyoung grow up first.

It’s funny how these things work out. First it was Seokmin and Soonyoung. Then it was Seokmin and Jaemi, a friendship occurring naturally between an optimistic boy and an upbeat girl in third year Greek Mythology class, all because her smile reminded him of someone he knew. Then it was Seokmin and Jaemi and Soonyoung, and then Soonyoung fell for her, getting his shit together real fast in an attempt to impress her.

Considering how close Seokmin was with Soonyoung back then, anyone might’ve thought that he would be upset having to share Soonyoung’s attention with someone else, but surprisingly enough he was absolutely cool with it. Maybe it was because he genuinely liked Jaemi and enjoyed her company, adoring her just as much as he adored Soonyoung, her presence turning their clownish duo into a fun (if at least slightly more responsible) trio. Maybe it was because Soonyoung and Jaemi never made him feel like a third wheel.

Maybe it was because, even when they started dating, even when they got engaged, even when they got married, even when they had kids—Seokmin’s relationship with the two of them never felt any weaker, never felt inferior to what they had on their own without him.

Soonyoung had grown up because of Jaemi, and it seems like he doesn’t really know how to do it now that she’s gone.

He has to work a nine-to-five job on the weekdays, and when he gets home he’s too exhausted to give the kind of attention and care needed for two young girls. He does his best, of course, but even with his mother popping in to help out, staying over for days if needed, it was obvious to everyone that Soonyoung’s seams have been fraying around the edges for a while now.

Seokmin knows this, and since he’s in the middle of job hunting himself and has plenty of time he makes sure to keep his best friend’s stress levels as minimal as possible. As the first two months go by, he takes it upon himself to take the girls to and from school (kindergarten for Yeona, nursery school for Yubin), go shopping, clean up the house a bit, and make sure Soonyoung’s got a nice, edible meal to come home to.

“Oh man,” Soonyoung groans when he comes back one evening to the smell of steamed pork wafting through the apartment, “that smells _good._ ”

“Welcome back,” Seokmin says, grinning at him. He’s got a fluffy pink apron on (courtesy of the girls when they went shopping together), Yeona helping him prepare a large bowl of freshly washed lettuce, and when Soonyoung looks over his getup and laughs it feels strangely domestic.

“What’s all this?” Soonyoung shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up, cooing at Yubin where she’s been scooting around on her fat plastic tricycle up and down the living room. She gurgles unintelligibly at him, very proud of herself. “A little fancy, don’t you think?”

“Nah, just some _bossam._ Figured you haven’t eaten it in a while.” Seokmin turns back to the pork. “Can you check on the rice for me?”

He’s busy heaving all the steamed pork into a big bowl and getting garlic and _ssamjang_. At first he only hears Soonyoung putting together bowls of rice, telling Yeona to be careful as she carries the lettuce to the living room table—she tells him, with hilarious intensity, that she is five years old and she can carry a bowl without dropping it, thank you very much—but then Seokmin feels arms (stronger and more assured than he remembers) wind their way casually around his waist, and a chin dig into his shoulder.

“Thanks for this, by the way,” Soonyoung says. “It’s nice to be able to really eat something, not have to put together a quick microwaveable dinner all the time.”

Seokmin snickers in response, but it sounds high-pitched and edgy compared to his usual free laughter. He wonders why he’s suddenly so _nervous_ , why Soonyoung’s arms being around him feels impossibly warm, why the feeling of Soonyoung’s head right next to his, voice close to his ear, is making him fight back shivers. Why, despite this sort of casual affection they’ve used around each other for years, the heat of the stove is suddenly worming its way inside his cheeks and taking root there, nesting in a burnt reddish glow.

Soonyoung extracts himself in order to take dishes out to the living room, nearly tripping over Yubin as she scoots her way after him with another excited shriek that sounds very much like “food!”, Yeona running over to help her off the tricycle and haul her up onto the couch.

Seokmin has to take a few deep breaths for the weird feeling to go away, waits until the TV is switched on and the sound of some children’s show fills the room, until with a big smile he follows them in and sits down like nothing happened.

 

“Who are you again?”

“My name is Boo Seungkwan.” The voice that belongs to that name is loud and confident, its speaker a baby-faced young man who looks like he’s barely hit his twenties. He fiddles with the beanie he’s got covering wheat-blond hair, a little dry and in bad condition from the yellow dye. “I told you, I’m Soonyoung-hyung’s babysitter.”

“Where’ve you been for the past four months I’ve been around, then?”

“It’s summer vacation, smart guy, my family went out to Jeju the second I finished my finals. What can I do about it?”

Seokmin scowls at the boy’s flippant attitude towards a man maybe ten years older than him, unimpressed to say the least. “And when did this babysitting job come to be, _Seungkwan?”_

“On and off the past two years depending on how forgiving my college workload is. I’ve seen you around before, I know you’re hyung’s friend.” When Seokmin gives him a nonplussed look, Seungkwan rolls his eyes and points vaguely out at the hallway. “I live just down the hall. Number 206. I _know_ them. Jaemi-noona used to come by all the time to give me and my mom tangerines.”

Ah, yes. Jaemi absolutely loved her tangerines. She ate so much of them Seokmin sometimes thought her fingers permanently smelled of citrus, a bowl of them always on the kitchen counter. When Seokmin would come over a bit too early before Soonyoung finished work, the two of them would often sit at the kitchen island, and they’d talk while Jaemi peeled them oranges.

“Are you any good?” Seokmin asks bluntly.

“Good at what?”

“Taking care of the girls.”

“I wouldn’t be doing this for two years if I weren’t any good, bruh.”

“Yeah? You know how to take care of kids?”

“ _Yes,_ okay? Jesus, man. I can change diapers, make food, read a bedtime story, I’m good, okay?”

“You better be,” Seokmin threatens, a weak move on his part since he’s not exactly used to threatening people. His mother used to say he had the consistency of porridge. Soft, weak, drizzled in honey. He’s sure crossing his arms and trying to glare at the kid is not as intimidating of a gesture as he hoped, but at the very least it gets his point across. “If I—if I see anything out of place, if anything goes wrong—”

“You’re only gonna be out for, what? Two, three hours while you do some chores?” Seungkwan frowns at him, puffy cheeks getting even puffier. “Can’t you just trust me? Why are you freaking out so much? They’re not even your kids, Jesus.”

Seokmin stutters a little, but he has nothing to say to that. Seungkwan is right—they _aren’t_ his kids. And while that statement doesn’t really matter much, considering he’s their godfather and he loves them to pieces, for some reason the babysitter’s words shocked him to the core. Somewhere down the line, in the past four months, he started thinking of them not as the children of his closest, dearest friend in the world, but as _his_ children. Not Jaemi and Soonyoung’s. _His_ and Soonyoung’s.

He’s not sure if that’s a bad thing or not, but it feels concerning enough for him to grab his wallet and keys and head out in a huff, desperate to clear his head.

When he returns with groceries, a finished dentist appointment, and a couple other things here and there, he sees Seungkwan has not only put Yubin in for her nap right on time, but has also cleaned the house up a bit. The toys have been stacked neatly away, the books and DVDs have been cleaned up, and Yeona is calmly practicing writing out the Korean alphabet at the kitchen island.

“Sorry,” Seungkwan says the minute he sees Seokmin take off his shoes, sounding a little guilty. “For snapping at you. I’m basically a stranger to you, and you were only concerned about the girls.”

“It’s fine,” Seokmin says, and Seungkwan instantly helps him with putting the groceries away. He has to change his opinion on the kid—as loud and direct as he may be, he doesn’t seem that bad after all. “Soonyoung said something about a babysitter helping out, but I guess I just wasn’t expecting it.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, broken only when Yeona finishes her alphabet, grabs a popsicle from the freezer, and runs triumphantly back to her room before either of them can tell her she can’t have one so close to dinner. Seokmin lets it go, just this once.

“I would’ve helped, you know,” Seungkwan says glumly, trying to squeeze a carton of almond milk into the fridge. “I knew Soonyoung-hyung was having a hard time after noona died, but I had finals and schoolwork to do and I couldn’t come help as much as I should’ve.”

“It’s not your fault, kid.” Seokmin passes him a jar of kimchi. “You have your own life to deal with. College is crazy important. Soonyoung wouldn’t hold it against you, and I certainly don’t.”

“I know. I just—” Seungkwan hangs his head. “I can’t believe Jaemi-noona died. She was—she was just so _nice._ ”

_(“You’re just so nice,” Seokmin says, words slurring slightly. They’re at a graduation party to celebrate finishing college, but he can’t quite remember who’s hosting it. He came with Soonyoung and Jaemi, of course, but Soonyoung disappeared somewhere between his fourth shot and stumbling outside with Jaemi for some fresh air.)_

_(There’s an old laundry machine here, just chilling on the grass in the backyard. It must’ve been replaced by a newer one but nobody could be bothered to deal with it. The two of them squash themselves up on top of it and pass a bottle of Smirnoff’s Ice—nothing too heavy, just a little something cold to keep the edge going. “You’re really nice,” he repeats, just in case he didn’t actually say it the first time. “Soonyoung’s really lucky to have you, you know?”)_

_(“Yeah.” Jaemi grabs the bottle and takes a long sip, hiccupping and grimacing at the alcoholic taste that bubbles up with it. “Gotta tell you a secret, Seokseok.”)_

_(“Hit me.”)_

_(“Soonyoung proposed. Yesterday.”)_

_(Seokmin stares. “Holy shit. Fuck. Is this a hallucination?”)_

_(Jaemi snorts. Her cheeks are flushed, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the alcohol or embarrassment. “This is 100% real, my dude. I mean—it wasn’t, like, a proposal-proposal, we’re still so young. But, like. You know. He told me that once we get good jobs and a nice place together and we’ve got our future all stable, he would really like to marry me. And I agreed with him, so I guess it’s a proposal?”)_

_(“You’re_ engaged _!” Seokmin half-shrieks into the night, swinging one arm around her to give her a clumsy hug. “I-I mean, oh my god, Jaejae? You and Soon are gonna get married? Can I be the best man? Can I do a toast and everything?”)_

_(“I dunno,” Jaemi teases, “I was really set on you being my maid-of-honour.”)_

_(“I can do both. Get me a pretty dress.”)_

_(She tosses her head back and laughs, delighted to share the news, overjoyed at Seokmin’s happiness for the two of them. Her eyes are bright with tears, maybe, but it’s hard to tell because Seokmin’s own tear ducts suddenly decided to start working overtime. His two best friends. Gonna get_ married. _Jaemi’s laugh is the audio equivalent of a bowl of warm chicken soup, of mashed potatoes with gravy, of hearty things that heat you up on the inside and coat your tongue and the roof of your mouth until you can’t help laughing with her. When Soonyoung was giving his wedding speech two years later he said he fell in love with her laugh second.)_

“Yeah,” Seokmin says, suddenly feeling like he’s choking. “Yeah, she really was.”

 

Six months since Seokmin first moved in, and certain things feel so natural now that it almost feels weird to imagine there was a time where he _didn’t_ do them.

“Soonyoung!” he hollers, opening the door to the master bedroom like he owns the place. Soonyoung’s form is visible underneath the sheets, a hidden lump dead to the world. Seokmin whips the blankets off of him and goes to open the blinds, letting bars of sunlight stream in and making the body in the bed whine feebly. “Soonyoung, I heard your alarm go off ten minutes ago. Get up.”

“Five more minutes,” Soonyoung grumbles, covering his face with his pillow.

“Why, so you don’t have time to eat breakfast and you’re out of energy all morning?” Seokmin throws himself onto the bed, right on top of Soonyoung, and smothers a grin when Soonyoung groans at the weight and tries to push him off. “Get up, I already put some bread in the toaster.”

“Thanks, darling,” Soonyoung mumbles into his pillow, half-asleep.

Seokmin’s heart suddenly stutters to a stop—Soonyoung used to call Jaemi that. Was he just being sarcastic, or was he so doped up on sleep that he thought Seokmin was …? He shakes off the goosebumps crawling up his arms by jamming his knee none-too-gently into Soonyoung’s thigh. “Get _up,_ Soon.”

“Mhpfh,” he says unintelligibly in response.

“One more time, babe.”

“Are you free this Saturday?”

Seokmin stares up at the white ceiling, looking bluish-grey in the still, soft darkness, the light peering out through the blinds not enough to illuminate the entire room just yet. “I’m literally always free? That’s kinda why I’m here. What’s up?”

“Wanna …” Soonyoung shifts, twisting his body to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling as well. He appears to be a little more lucid now. “Wanna go visit Jaemi’s grave.”

The atmosphere in the room turns a little somber. It’s not the overwhelming, chest-tightening kind of grief anymore, but there’s a part of it that might never stop hurting. Seokmin knows this, and he knows they’re both moving on from that emptiness and this is a natural process to achieving that, but for some reason he still can’t breathe. Terrifyingly enough, he’s not even sure if it’s actually because of Jaemi. “Shit, it’s the anniversary, isn’t it.”

“Mmm … next Wednesday, actually. We’ll go then, too, with the girls. But, I … I want to go first, just … just the two of us. In case I, well.”

Seokmin understands, even if Soonyoung doesn’t say anything. They’ve gone to visit Jaemi’s grave a couple of times already in the past year, and each time has been difficult, to say the least. But if Soonyoung ends up breaking down, he doesn’t want it to happen in front of his daughters.

“Of course,” he says, trying to keep his voice light and airy, even as his hand reaches down to rub comforting circles against Soonyoung’s stomach. He doesn’t think anything of it in the moment—the shirt Soonyoung sleeps in is riding up slightly, revealing the soft, squishy stomach of a man who used to be fit in his college years but hasn’t had time to go to the gym in a long while. “We’ll get Seungkwan to watch the girls for a few hours, go out and buy some flowers and tangerines, visit her grave, grab a quick lunch, and head on back.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, man. I’m happy to do this.”

“I’m serious, though. Thank you, Seokmin.”

Soonyoung turns his head towards him, just as Seokmin does the same, and although there is a good bit of distance between their faces Seokmin thinks they are suddenly very close together, too close, and it’s at that moment he realizes what his hand is doing and he snatches it away from scratching at Soonyoung’s stomach. He scrambles off the bed until he is finally free. His palms are sweating a bit, heart racing, an awful queasiness in his stomach. This used to be the bed Soonyoung and Jaemi slept in together. This used to be _their_ bed. Seokmin abruptly feels as though he has pushed too far, crossed a boundary that hadn’t existed or even mattered before.

Soonyoung is staring at him, both in confusion and because he’s still too lazy to move anywhere else. There’s a strange, pulsating intensity in his pretty eyes, impossibly dark and questioning and thoughtful. Seokmin wants to literally jump off the balcony.

“Now I’m serious, Soon, get _up!”_ He grabs Soonyoung’s pillow from underneath his head and throws it to the floor as well, leaving Soonyoung complaining on a bare mattress. “If you aren’t up and dressed in the next five minutes, I’m eating the toast I made for you and you can go to work on an empty stomach, I swear to god.”

That proves to be enough of an incentive. Soonyoung sits up with a groan, and Seokmin makes his escape, ears burning and heart racing and stomach nauseous, sensations he drowns as quickly as he can under a glass of milk.

That Saturday, Seokmin dresses up in a more somber tone, dark trousers and the kind of crisp button-up shirt he would wear if he had a job to go to. He and Soonyoung have more formal clothes that they’ll wear on the actual date, but they both wanted this to be a bit more casual.

Jaemi always hated having to dress fancy, anyway.

The drive is mostly silent, Soonyoung filling the empty space words can’t supply with radio. He finds a nostalgic oldies station and ups the volume, and they hum along to trot songs until the red Kia rolls up to Jungja Park Cemetery. The sky is the uniform grey of a crisp November, the mounds of earth and grey-black slabs of stone depicting the names of old memories dotting the earth in long rows. The cemetery is mostly empty, maybe only two or three people visiting loved ones off in the distance, and there is a sense of privacy to it all.

The walk to Jaemi’s grave is a familiar one, a melancholy one, but melancholy in the way happy memories from a long time ago feel. There’s a burning simmering in the back of Seokmin’s eyes, a cat-like heavy weight on his chest, but the smell of tangerines wafting from the plastic bag in Soonyoung’s hand soothes him.

Religion has never been Seokmin’s friend—his family was, at best, agnostic, while Soonyoung’s parents were Christian (Soonyoung himself became a devout evolutionist by high school) and Jaemi could only be described as mildly Buddhist—but he can’t deny there’s something intrinsically spiritual about a grave. Maybe it’s something about energy or whatever, but the aura in this place, this tiny little square patch of grass in front of the stone carved with her name, just _feels_ like Jaemi.

“Sorry we didn’t bring much,” Soonyoung mumbles, and Seokmin knows he’s not talking to him. “We’ll bring proper offerings on Wednesday, have a real family meal with the girls. Just … wanted to say hi.”

_A real family._

Seokmin thinks he’s suffocating. He can’t explain why—but his lungs are filling up with water, claws scratching at the fragile insides of his throat. In this moment, as Soonyoung silently sets eight tangerines onto the gravestone, pays his respects to his late wife, Seokmin’s _best friend_ , Seokmin suddenly feels like he’s an outsider, an intruder. He doesn’t belong here.

_(“I don’t belong here,” Seokmin complains. A heavy cardboard box digs sharp corners into skin, the words “KITCHEN SUPPLIES” scrawled on the side in Soonyoung’s familiar slanted hand. “This is, like, your love nest or whatever.”)_

_(“Don’t,” Jaemi warns, following right after him with her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and struggling with a box of what might apparently be “ASSORTED SHIT”, “ever refer to our house as a love nest ever again.”)_

_(“Also,” Soonyoung adds, already in the apartment and trying to remember where they agreed all the pots and pans will go, “how dare you even suggest you don’t belong here. Fuck off with that, Lee Seokmin.”)_

_(Seokmin huffs out a flattered laugh, but it doesn’t stop the words from falling out. “You guys are, like, practically newlyweds. You’re engaged. You’re gonna start a life here. That’s … I’m the Joey of Full House, you get me? I don’t want to be the Joey of Full House.”)_

_(“Joey was my favourite character,” Jaemi hums. Soonyoung laughs and pats her hip as he walks by, helping Seokmin haul the box of kitchen supplies onto the island counter. “Seok, life is way more boring without you around. We’d get you to move in, if we could.”)_

_(“That’s pushing it,” Soonyoung playfully warns.)_

_(“Oh, shut up, you.” Jaemi stands up on her toes to swing an arm around Seokmin’s shoulders. “You belong wherever we go, there’s no doubt about that. You’re family, Seok.”)_

_(Seokmin ducks his head and smiles at his shoes. Soonyoung comes up to his other side, wraps his arm around Seokmin’s waist and squeezes. “Yeah, Seok,” Soonyoung says, and together the couple tickle him until Seokmin is whining and struggling to free himself, complaining that they aren’t a bunch of kids anymore. But truthfully, Seokmin feels most at home like this, his two best friends half-piled on top of him and trying to put him in a headlock, and he thinks they feel the same.)_

A weight presses itself against Seokmin’s shoulder, and he’s jolted out of his memories to see Soonyoung is tilting into him, head resting against him for comfort or maybe support. His eyes are bright, but there are no tears. He simply looks … tired. Sad and tired.

“I miss her so much, Seok,” he mutters, quietly, quiet enough for it to almost be swallowed by the breeze.

Seokmin has no answer for that, not when he’s trying to find it himself. He lifts up his arm to run fingers through Soonyoung’s black hair, hold him close, his presence both a butterfly-fluttering anxiety that makes his heart race and something as warm and soothing as honey in tea.

When they were twenty, the two of them snuck into the campus gym’s swimming pool after hours and splashed around until two in the morning. It was entirely dark save for inground pool lights that glowed an eerie, unearthly blue around them, and the moon shining through the large floor-to-ceiling windows leading out to the tennis court. Seokmin swam laps until he couldn’t feel his fingers and toes, and together he and Soonyoung floated starfish-style, staring up at the dark ceiling and the way the light of the blue-lit water played against every glass surface. They muttered secrets to each other that they could only half-hear with the pool in their ears, laughing at nothing, and held hands so they wouldn’t float away from each other. That single point of contact, searing hot against the almost numbing chill of the water, felt like the most comforting bit of nostalgia and warmth and _home_ that Seokmin’s ever come close to understanding.

Seokmin hadn’t really realized it, but even since then Soonyoung has been something irreplaceable in his life. Immovable. Like the way Seokmin knows the sun rises every morning and sets every evening, and there will always be stars in the sky, and the Earth will always rotate, and the moon will always orbit around the Earth. He knew Soonyoung was something that was meant to always be with him.

The drive home is silent, and once they reach the comfort of their apartment they take the oranges out and eat them, their purpose as offerings complete. At the first bite, tangy juice spreads across Seokmin’s tongue, and they taste exactly like the ones Jaemi would pick apart and give to him. Identical citrus twins.

 

Seokmin should really count his lucky stars. It’s been almost nine months since he moved in with Soonyoung, and so far neither of the girls have gotten particularly sick or been in any sort of danger. It’s made him lazy. It’s made him complacent. He honestly should’ve expected it would happen soon enough.

“Yeona doesn’t seem to be feeling well,” he tells Soonyoung as he watches him tear through his cup of coffee and a thick slice of banana bread. “She told me she feels dizzy and her stomach aches.”

“Is it something she ate recently?” Soonyoung asks, eyebrows knitting together in consternation. Seokmin can see that he’s starting to work himself up to a panic, despite trying to sound calm.

Becoming a dad has certainly changed much about the old wild child he used to be, the reckless college kid that used to chug three cups of coffee at once to power through all-nighters, or break in his first leased car by doing doughnuts in an empty parking lot, Seokmin shrieking in the passenger’s seat. Becoming a young father, then a young _single_ father, tore through that unruliness and snapped it into pieces, shredded to dust beneath the child safety locks and cribs and family photo albums and tiny baby shoes that can fit into one palm.

Seokmin can’t really say that Soonyoung’s an entirely different person or anything—he’s just not the way he used to be. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

“The only thing she’s eaten recently is _my_ food, I’ll have you know, so watch your mouth,” he says teasingly, but Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. “She’s gonna be fine, Soon. I’ll tell her teacher that she needs to take it easy and not do anything too strenuous today, and if she still feels bad when I pick her up, I’ll see about getting her to rest and maybe take a day off from school or something. I got this, alright? It’s nothing major.”

Soonyoung doesn’t look convinced. He glances at the clock on the oven display, blinking red digits at him that read he can’t afford to waste any more time. “Maybe I should call my boss and see if I can—”

“Christ, Soonyoung, can you calm down for a second?” Seokmin gives him a firm but gentle push in the direction of the door. “Slow down. Take a breath. Go the fuck to work. Yeona is gonna be fine, and I can handle this.”

“Right,” Soonyoung mumbles, fumbling for his jacket and shoes. “Right, sorry. You got this. I need to go to work.”

“That’s right.”

“You can handle this.”

“I _sure_ can, babe, so get the fuck moving.”

Soonyoung stumbles out the door, leaving Seokmin to care for the girls. Yeona really does look a little peaky, her face a bit flushed, and occasionally her small hand presses against her stomach with a wince. Now that he’s not distracted by Soonyoung being a worrywart, Seokmin himself feels a little unsure. He quietly asks Yeona if she’d like to stay home today, but Yeona refuses and steadfastly tells him that today is show and tell at school and she doesn’t want to miss anything.

With Yeona off to first grade and Yubin sent to nursery school later in the morning (the two of them happily singing along to kiddie sing-along tracks in the car), Seokmin’s day becomes abruptly empty. He satisfies himself with getting some groceries and picking up Soonyoung’s dry cleaning, then heads back home to clean up the house and put away toys. These small jobs don’t bother him, but there’s always that little pinch in the back of his head that reminds him he should be looking for a new job, that his current situation with Soonyoung and his daughters is only temporary. That once Soonyoung is ready to move on, is ready to get out there and deal with the world again and maybe find someone special, Seokmin will have to leave. Have to find his own place again, get a job, press the play button on the life he’s put on pause to be here.

And that, inexplicably, fills him with a sadness unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

The day ticks by as slow as molasses. Seokmin picks up Yubin first, then Yeona, and brings them home and starts getting dinner ready. Yeona is more subdued than usual. She wants to tell him all about her day, and tries her best to go through all the different things her classmates brought to show the class, but it seems to be more effort than it should be to retain her normal level of enthusiasm. Eventually, she falls to silence, and Seokmin starts to realize this may be a bit more than just an average off day.

“Are you okay, Yeona?” he asks her, softly.

“My tummy kinda hurts,” she mumbles.

“Where? Be very specific about where.”

She gestures to the entire expanse of her abdomen. Okay, so it’s not her appendix. Seokmin forces himself to be calm.

“How bad? On a scale of one to ten.”

Yeona shrugs her thin shoulders. “Like, a four? Five?”

“That’s not good, angel. Maybe you have a stomach flu?” Seokmin presses his hand to her forehead, brushing aside her bangs. It’s not anything he thinks he’s got to be immediately concerned about, but she _does_ feel a little warm. “A slight fever, too. Maybe, um—”

He abruptly blanks. What is he supposed to do when a child has a small fever? What did his _parents_ do when he used to have a fever? Trying to remember events from more than twenty years ago is exceedingly difficult, and as a single thirty-year-old man with no children of his own besides the two he has adopted in heart and spirit only, his experience handling kids has come from what little he’s done for his friends here and there, and the several months he’s spent in this home. Maybe what she needs is something sweet and nutritious, something to make her feel better and cool the fever down.

He pours her a glass of orange juice and Yeona gratefully drinks it all up. “Thank you, Uncle Seokmin,” she chirps prettily, and Seokmin smiles at her cuteness. Soonyoung and Jaemi had taught her manners well—he likes to think he had a bit of a hand in it, too.

“If your tummy starts to hurt again, just let me know, alright, darling?”

“I’ll be fine,” she says, and the way she speaks is so prim and proper, so old for her age, that hearing her say it through her stumbling, clumsy, childish speech is hilarious in a way she probably doesn’t intend. “You don’t have to worry about me, Uncle Seokmin.”

“That’s real admirable of you, angel, but you gotta tell me if it’s hurting, okay? Uncle Seokmin doesn’t want you to be hurting.” Yubin, overhearing their conversation from where she’s smearing applesauce on her face in her highchair, pulls her blueberry-apple-smeared hand away from her mouth and lets out a series of gurgles and babbles. “Yubin agrees, see?”

Yeona smiles and giggles, prancing off to play. Seokmin, satisfied with the way he handled the situation and pleased with his own ingenuity, gets dinner ready while talking to Yubin, which at her age consists of half-babble, half-actual-words that he responds to like he knows what she’s saying. It’s surprisingly fun to do. He can’t even remember what it was like living alone without two little girls running about.

At approximately a minute before five o’ clock, disaster strikes in the form of a retching noise in the bathroom down the hallway, followed almost immediately after by the unmistakeable sound of someone throwing up.

Seokmin, having had a full four years of college experience knowing what the sound of someone’s vomit splattering into a toilet is like, immediately drops everything and rushes to the bathroom. He can hear Yubin tottering as fast as she can after him, distressed noises leaving her mouth. When he skids to a stop, nearly falling to the floor when he slips on his socks, he sees Yeona staggering away from the toilet and wiping her mouth, clutching her stomach. At the sight of Seokmin, she bursts into loud, noisy, terrified tears.

“Yeona!” His stomach lurches, heart sinking down to nestle somewhere inside his intestines. This must be what it feels like to be a parent, a part of him thinks miserably. Just a whole lot of panic and fear and trying desperately to make sure nothing bad ever happens to them, and feeling like shit when they inevitably do. “Oh god, Yeona, angel—what’s wrong? What happened?”

“My tummy hurts!” Yeona sobs, face twisted and red. At the sight of her sister looking so upset, Yubin starts to get fussy too, mouth squirming into a wobbly frown. “Uncle Seokmin, it hurts! It hurts and it made me throw up and now my mouth is _gross_ and everything _hurts_ —”

He’s a fucking idiot. He’s _such_ a fucking idiot. He _knew_ she wasn’t feeling well all day, he _knew_ she might have had a stomach flu, yet he thought giving her some sugary cold juice would bring her fever down and she’d be all right after? What was he fucking _thinking?_

“It’s okay, Yeona—it—it—” Seokmin is starting to panic now, and it’s not boding well—Yeona clearly needs some sort of medicine to help the pain, Advil or Tylenol or _something,_ but a quick rummage through the medicine cabinet reveals that of course fucking Soonyoung would forget to keep it stocked—but no, no, Seokmin lives here now too and it’s his job to take care of the kids so it’s also his fault—what can he do, there’s a drug store just down the block of the apartment but he can’t just leave the girls here—

Seungkwan. Seungkwan lives just down the hall. Maybe he’s home, maybe he can, maybe—

Seokmin brings the girls to the living room couch, grabs his wallet and keys and races towards the door, flings it open, trying desperately to remember which apartment is Seungkwan’s—god, how can he not remember, why didn’t he have it written down somewhere, he’s being such a fuck-up—Soonyoung’s gonna be so disappointed in him—Yeona _needs_ him—

“Is everything all right?”

There’s only one person out in the hallway, a shorter, older man with heavy eye bags and faint premature wrinkles. Seokmin barely gives himself time to take him in before he runs up and grabs his arm. “Please, I need your help, I need—my girl is sick, I need to run down and get some medicine, but there’s no one—just for a few minutes, I promise, I’ll be back before you know it!”

“What are you—?” The man pauses when he hears Yeona’s cries from the open door. He looks appropriately befuddled. “Kwon Soonyoung’s kids?”

“You know S-Soonyoung?”

The man jerks his thumb down the direction of the hall. “I’m Number 203. He’s Number 210. Everyone knows everyone on this floor. What’s wrong with the girls?”

“Y-Yeona is sick,” Seokmin stutters, practically wringing his hands. “She needs Advil, or, or Tylenol or something, I was trying to get Boo Seungkwan but I don’t know if he’s even home, he might still be at school, I need to go buy some or, or—”

“Okay, you gotta calm down.” The stranger reaches up to press a firm, hard hand onto Seokmin’s shoulder. He has to reach up quite a bit, but the calming effect is still there. “Take deep breaths. What exactly is wrong with her?”

“S-stomach pains. Slight fever. Nausea. I think it’s a stomach flu.”

“I have some Tylenol pills in my place, do you want me to go get them or—?”

“N-no, it can’t be adult pills, the dose is too strong. I have to go buy children’s Tylenol, liquid form. Can you just—?” He stares at the stranger pleadingly. “Can you just keep an eye on them while I run to the drug store? Please? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Number 203 looks startled and maybe even a little nervous—he glances back at the open door, Yubin starting to cry now because of Yeona, and he looks clearly uncertain—but Seokmin has tears in his eyes and he’s panicked and Number 203’s face screws up when he realizes there’s no way he can say no to this. “I … alright. Alright, okay. Go on.”

Seokmin doesn’t even let him finish before he’s racing towards the elevator.

By the time he’s running back towards the apartment, a plastic bag hitting against the side of his thigh with every stride, he’s starting to realize that it might not have been a good idea to let a total stranger into their home to watch over the girls. Not that Number 203 looks untrustworthy or gives off any bad vibes or anything, but still. Seokmin’s still not familiar with everyone on their floor, he doesn’t _know_ these people yet, how could he just panic like that and endanger his kids—

_Not my kids. Soonyoung’s kids. Jaemi’s kids. Not mine._

Number 203 is waiting on the couch when Seokmin barges in. Yeona is sniffling and hiccupping into his lap as he smooths back her hair, Yubin comforted and fallen asleep in his free arm. He looks supremely terrified and sighs with obvious relief when he sees Seokmin has returned, and automatically Seokmin relaxes a bit and knows he’s not a bad guy.

“C’mere, Yeona,” Seokmin says, ripping the protective sealing around the cap of the children’s Tylenol and trying to sound like he’s not ten seconds away from tearing up. “This will help your tummy stop hurting, okay? Look, it’s cherry flavour, yummy!”

“You don’t have to lie, Uncle Seokmin,” Yeona says grumpily, shifting upright on the couch. “I’m already six. I know it tastes yucky.”

Number 203 snorts into his palm, as Seokmin grins. Looks like Yeona’s still herself, at least. “It’s the best-tasting flavour out of all of them, trust me,” he assures her, pouring out the required amount in the little measuring cup that comes with the bottle. “Better than grape or bubblegum, right?”

Yeona makes a face, although he can’t tell if it’s from the thought of those artificial, sticky-sweet flavours, or from the discomfort in her stomach. She dutifully downs the entire thing, shuddering afterwards as it crawls down her throat. “It’s not helping,” she says miserably.

“You have to wait a second for it to help, angel. Here, lie down for a bit, I’m just gonna put Yubin to bed, alright?”

She nods and curls into the fetal position, looking exhausted and feeble, and Seokmin thinks his heart might break clean in half. He takes Yubin from a grateful Number 203 and gestures for the neighbour to follow him down the hall, leaving Yeona to rest in quiet.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “so, so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”

“It’s fine,” 203 says, watching as Seokmin places Yubin into her crib and makes sure she’s comfortable. “I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself. I’m Lee Jihoon.”

“Lee Seokmin.” They shake hands. “Hey, cool, we got the same surname.”

Jihoon snorts. “So does half the country, pal.” The joke works, though—he looks noticeably less stressed out when they pull their hands away, wrinkles softened and a slight smile on his face. “What are you doing with Kwon Soonyoung’s kids?”

“I live here right now,” Seokmin explains, their voices dropping even further when they creep past the living room—Yeona’s tiny form is rising and falling steadily, and she might have actually fallen asleep after all—and out into the building’s hallway to speak. “I’m his best friend, I’m here to, well, help him out, after what happened to Kwon Jaemi.”

“Ah,” Jihoon says quietly. “That explains it.” He hesitates, and Seokmin suddenly has the feeling that this man isn’t really used to talking to his neighbours, or talking to people in general. “It was, um. It was pretty hard on everyone when she died. She was friends with the entire floor, we all knew her name. She always came by with those tangerines of hers.”

Seokmin laughs weakly, but his heart twinges hard in-between his lungs. For a split moment, his brain tricks him and the corridor suddenly smells of citrus and floral-scented shampoo, the kind Jaemi’s used for years because once she likes something, she doesn’t enjoy changing it. “Yeah, she loved those.”

When it becomes apparent that the conversation has reached a dark turn, Jihoon looks embarrassed and changes the subject to a very flustered, “Sorry I couldn’t help more. With the kids, I mean. I’m not—I mean—I’m not great with them. Children. I mean.”

“What? You’re fantastic with them, are you kidding me? You got Yubin to fall asleep and Yeona wasn’t crying nearly as hard as she was when I left. You’re a natural.”

Jihoon winces, and his cheeks turn slightly pink. Seokmin finds this man rather adorable, even though it feels strange to refer to a guy in his mid-thirties that way. “Yeah, well, you didn’t see the beginning part of it. Kids are terrifying. I have no idea what they want out of me.”

Seokmin chuckles. Their interactions are starting to turn a little easier, smoother, more familiar. Less like uncomfortable strangers struggling to find something to connect with, more like neighbours slowly making their way to possibly becoming friends. He’s never been one for awkward talks, anyway, he likes skipping to the part where everyone is friendly and approachable. Soonyoung and Jaemi were the same, too—maybe that’s why they all clicked so quickly and so well. “Not a family man, I take it?”

“Oh, my parents definitely pray for it every day, but likely not.” He pauses, then quickly adds with a hefty dose of embarrassment, “I’m not a loner or shut-in or anything like that, I just, I like my privacy. I’m not interested in looking for anything right now, you know?”

Seokmin used to be like that. He’s not sure if he’s the same anymore. “No, no, I get it. Who says we have to all be married and starting families at twenty-five, anyhow? Not everyone is like Soonyoung.”

“Like me what?” Soonyoung himself appears from the elevator, looking rather tired and haggard but pleased to be home. “What’s going on?”

It looks like talking to two people at once is a bit too much for Jihoon. He shuffles his feet, looking a little tense. “I better get on back,” he says, nodding at the two of them before promptly walking down the hall towards his own apartment.

“How d’you know Jihoon?” Soonyoung asks Seokmin curiously.

Seokmin grins. “Weird guy. Nice, though. He helped me out, Yeona got some sort of stomach flu—”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen, flaring into Panicked Father Mode, and somehow it shouldn’t look as endearing and lovable as it does. “What? Is she okay? How is—do we need to call a doctor?”

“No, it’s fine,” Seokmin reassures him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder both to comfort and to prevent him from bursting into their house in a frenzy and waking Yeona up. “A bit of a fever and stomach pains, but nothing water, some rest, and maybe a day or two off from school won’t fix. We were out of children’s medicine, though, so I was starting to freak out, so Jihoon helped look after the girls while I ran out to get some.”

Soonyoung lets out a weak, shaky breath of laughter, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning to rest his head against Seokmin’s shoulder. Seokmin unexpectedly finds it very hard to breathe, but he’s not sure if it’s all from his best friend’s weight or because his heart suddenly decided to stop working on him. God, why is this happening to him? “Oh, thank god. Thank god.”

“Don’t panic, Soon. I fucked up a bit but I’m here to take care of them, you know I’m not gonna let anything happen to the girls.”

“I know, I know, it’s just—” Soonyoung exhales slowly, and Seokmin can feel faint tremors in the shoulders he’s got an arm around. “Fuck, man. After Jaemi, I—if anything ever happened to them, I don’t know if I could—could _take_ it, you know? Christ, I’m gonna be the worst, most overprotective single dad in the history of Korea if I go on like this.”

“Stop,” Seokmin instructs firmly. “Just stop worrying. I’m here, okay? I’m here, and you know I’d rather be skinned alive than let a single hair on their heads get harmed. Just—I get why you’re so worried about them, I _get_ it, but what are you gonna do, install nanny cams in every single room of the apartment so you can monitor them from work?”

“I was thinking of it,” Soonyoung says miserably, voice muffled against the fabric of Seokmin’s shirt.

“Oh. My god. Soonyoung.”

“I didn’t need to because of you. You’re my nanny cam.”

“Wow, thanks.” Soonyoung’s breathing tickles the tiny, invisible-thin hairs on Seokmin’s neck, and he lets out an involuntary shiver he desperately hopes his best friend can’t feel. “I’m so glad that you see your best friend as a spy device.”

Soonyoung huffs out a small laugh, hot air warming a patch of Seokmin’s shirt and the skin beneath it. His forehead is very, very close to Seokmin’s mouth and prime real estate for a comforting little kiss—and normally that wouldn’t be a problem, both of them are physically affectionate people and they had no problems with platonic kisses on the cheek or forehead as a little sentimental booster in the past—but suddenly Seokmin’s throat feels dry and his cheeks feel scratchy and hot and it doesn’t feel the same at all, not at all, and he pushes Soonyoung away with a slightly hysterical laugh, uncomfortable. Soonyoung only stares at him, looking lost and a little confused.

“Chin up, Soon,” Seokmin says, desperate to change the subject. His mind lands on the last person they talked to. “Anyway, Jihoon’s a real nice guy. I’m surprised I haven’t seen him around yet.”

Soonyoung shakes off the weirdness Seokmin’s probably exuding out of every pore in his skin and says, “Yeah, he’s like that. Sometimes I can go by a month without seeing his face even once. He works from home, I think, and he doesn’t get out much, and when he does, it’s late late hours at a recording studio or something? I dunno, I think he writes songs for a living but he’s not exactly … how should I say this … open with discussing anything about his private life.”

“I get that.” The queasy, uncertain feeling in Seokmin’s stomach fades away, and he finds himself able to laugh genuinely, this time laced with relief. “He’s cute, though. And single.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully. “Didn’t I always say I had a thing for older guys?”

Soonyoung hums. “You did. Why, do you like him?” And there’s something weird in his tone, something sharp or flat, something that’s just the tiniest bit off, and it throws Seokmin off his game again.

“I—” he stammers, the queasiness coming back in full force. “I mean, sure? He seems like a nice guy, but I mean. I don’t even know him.”

“I know.”

“I mean, I was just kidding.”

Soonyoung fiddles with the collar of his work-appropriate shirt. His voice is still odd, his face stone-like in its blankness. “I know.”

A sudden awkward silence fills the air between them. Seokmin doesn’t understand what’s happening—they’ve never been awkward around each other, except for maybe the one or two times Seokmin’s accidentally walked in on Soonyoung and Jaemi doing something, _ahem,_ private back in college. Uncomfortable silences and uncertainty in the spaces that should be filled with laughter and words are things that just don’t happen to the two of them, only they are now, and it’s different, and it feels like something is changing, and Seokmin hates it. He _hates_ it.

“Let’s go check on Yeona,” he says hastily, pretending his heart still feels like a heart instead of a lump of wet, pulpy nerves held painstakingly together with glue; and before Soonyoung can clear his troubled expression Seokmin is already turning around to open the door, the taste of acid and bile and lost hopes in his mouth and burning down his throat.

 

He’s not sure what happened between them, but for the next couple of weeks, months, Seokmin and Soonyoung are unbearably awkward around each other.

In terms of everything else, Seokmin thinks life should be going great. Seungkwan enjoys seeing him, and occasionally even stays a bit past his babysitting hours just for them to chat. Jihoon is his usual self, more of a ghost than anything else, but on the off chance Seokmin runs into him in the hall, they talk about his late hours and sometimes they return to the apartment for some tea. Yeona has more or less adopted Jihoon after he stayed with her during her bout of stomach flu, and doesn’t seem to notice that excitedly clambering onto his lap and talking to him about her day and whatever interesting thing flits through her mind is unbearably terrifying for him. Seokmin finds their interactions cute, so he only grins and says nothing.

But then there’s Soonyoung.

Seokmin isn’t sure what happened. It’s as if there’s a barrier between them that has never existed before, some invisible wall full of sticky spider web silences and dust bunny clouds of tension. It’s never been like that with them.

Seokmin is terrified that it’s because of him, that he’s done something wrong. But no—the confusing, awful feelings that sometimes swarm his mind when he thinks of Soonyoung are kept a careful secret, he’s certain of that, and the sparse few moments of discomfort shouldn’t be enough to make Soonyoung take a step back. If anything, it’s more Kwon Soonyoung’s style to storm right up to him and demand to know what’s his deal.

But that’s not what’s happening.

What’s happening is Soonyoung barely looking at him when they sit down to watch TV together—and if he does, he looks away the second Seokmin’s head turns. What’s happening is strange periods of quiet at dinner that they normally fill with jokes and giggles and stories for the girls, a couple of minutes of torture that pulse against Seokmin’s brain incessantly until someone says something to disrupt it. What’s happening is Seokmin feeling weird about touching his best friend, about playfully pinching his soft cheeks or throwing himself onto his bed to wake him up or even giving him a hug, and Soonyoung likely feeling the same.

What’s happening is Seokmin realizing, day by day, that he’s falling in love with Soonyoung—maybe already has, weeks ago, months ago, the feeling of intimacy and domesticity and raising children together swarming into Seokmin’s heart and mind until he’s caught up in the emotions, until he suddenly realizes he’s looking at Soonyoung differently after all these years—and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

The thought of it makes him feel terrible, even worse than that time he got dumped during a party in college and had to nurse his broken heart through an ear-splitting hangover. No, this is worse than anything he’s ever felt before, because this is _Soonyoung._ This is his best friend, his big lump of a doofus who’s been by his side for the better part of thirteen years, his best friend who’s lost his _wife,_ their other best friend—

Oh, god. Jaemi.

Seokmin knows how fucked this is. That he’s moved into the house that used to belong to Jaemi, taking care of Jaemi’s children, washing the blankets that belonged to the bed that Jaemi used to sleep in, taking over her empty spot at the kitchen island during dinner—and now he’s falling for her husband, too?

Maybe if Jaemi was nothing to him, just Soonyoung’s wife and nothing more, Seokmin might not feel so badly. But Jaemi has never been just Soonyoung’s wife; she’s always, _always_ been so much more than that. A friend Seokmin can count on, a departed soul he grieved over for months, a spark of light that has made his world just a little bit darker now that it’s gone out. So how can he do this, how can he just insert himself into Jaemi’s place and look at both her husband, his very own best friend, and feel these things, how can he …?

There’s only one thing he has left to do. The only solution he can come to in order to fix things.

“Soonyoung,” he says one night, before they head off to bed. The girls are already asleep, Yubin curled up in her crib and Yeona sighing in her dreams in her bedroom. Soonyoung looks ridiculously attractive—Seokmin’s always known this, but now it’s such an obvious sort of observation that it just kind of _hurts_ —in his casually unbuttoned work shirt and messy black hair. Seokmin does his best to ignore it and fails miserably. “We need to talk.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond for a moment, but when he does, it’s with a smile and the barest hint of uncertainty that only Seokmin could ever be able to pick up. Somehow, that makes it even worse. That Seokmin knows Soonyoung enough to pick up on these tiny little things that no one else in the world could ever see, and yet it’s suddenly not enough to know what Soonyoung’s thinking. “Sure, man. What’s up?”

“I’ve been here for a year now,” Seokmin says slowly, and the number almost shocks him. Already a full year. Twelve months. Eighteen months since Jaemi’s car accident. Felt-tip marker black X’s scrawled onto eighteen pages of boxed-in calendars. It’s both an incredibly long time, longer than any of them had really been expecting, and yet now that he’s saying it Seokmin feels like it hasn’t been long enough. Could never be long enough. “I know we never really put an expiration date on this or anything, but I. Well. I think it’s high time I get back to my own life, you know?”

Soonyoung, again, doesn’t say anything for a long time. Seokmin is suddenly afraid that he sounds harsh or ungrateful, unfeeling maybe, so he quickly adds as cheerily as he can, “I can’t stay freeloading off of you forever, I gotta go out and get my own job, my own place again. Besides, what’ll you do if you’re ready to move on and find a nice girl and I’m still here getting fat on your couch—”

“What is that supposed to mean?” And Soonyoung is not quiet anymore, not wary, not uncertain. He’s jumping to his feet, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with light and fury and something else—something like sadness, or maybe disappointment, but not quite—that leaves Seokmin flustered and a little frightened and awfully attracted to him.

“W-what?”

“‘Find a nice girl’, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I-I—” Soonyoung takes a step closer, getting into Seokmin’s space—the way boys tend to do, he distinctly recalls, memories of boys in high school hallways or on the college campus quad, all posturing and bravado, a way to protect their pride when they don’t actually want to fight—and maybe he went too far, maybe he was being crude. “I didn’t mean it in any way, Soon, I’m just—I only—well, one day you’re gonna move on, that’s life! And when you move on, you might find someone else, that’s all I’m—”

“You think I’m gonna forget Jaemi that easily?” Soonyoung’s mouth works for a second, bottom lip shivering like it’s cold, chin shaking, before his jaw clenches and his eyes are hot and dazzling and liquid steel. “That it’s so easy to fall in love again, after you marry someone for seven years, start a life with her, start a _family_ with her? That I can just—just throw that all aside and shove my heart into someone else’s hands? You think I’m gonna—gonna—” His eyes widen. He doesn’t seem to know how to express whatever he’s feeling, so he lets the silence speak for him.

The silence says a whole fucking lot, and not enough at all.

Seokmin is stunned for several moments, unable to process Soonyoung’s outburst, unable to find anything to say. His legs are starting to shake, or maybe that’s just the floor trying to disappear from underneath him.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually manages to utter out, shakily, “I didn’t mean—I only—I’m sorry.”

Neither of them speak, and neither of them move away. Eventually, it’s like a shadow passes over Soonyoung’s face, and he backs off, hand reaching up to brush at his bangs, hovering as if to hide himself from sight. “I’m sorry, too,” he mumbles, before leaving the living room and heading towards his bedroom.

Seokmin cries himself to sleep that night.

 

One night, Soonyoung’s out on some mandatory company dinner, and Seungkwan is able to babysit the girls late. Seokmin can’t stand being in the apartment right now, suffocated under every single nook and cranny and corner that only reminds him of the feelings he’s so desperately trying to ignore, so he takes advantage of his free night to visit Jihoon, trusting Seungkwan to be able to tuck the girls into bed and send them off to sleep properly. It’s a strange feeling, to know he can go talk to his friend without stressing over a time limit. Child care sure is something weird.

“You seem upset,” Jihoon drawls, pouring Seokmin a cup of green tea. He doesn’t use tea bags—thin dark leaves rest lightly at the bottom of Seokmin’s cup. It’s the strongest tea Seokmin’s ever tasted, the bitterness coating his tongue and the caffeine immediately spiking in his bloodstream. He supposes with Jihoon’s late nights and all, every single drink in his home has to be something that can keep him awake at any hour.

“What makes you say that?”

Jihoon looks over the baggy sweatshirt Seokmin’s huddled into like a safety blanket, the sheer misery Seokmin’s probably bleeding out into the air and getting sucked up through Jihoon’s air conditioning system. “Lucky guess.”

“I’m fine.” Seokmin runs his hand down his face, groaning. “Just … job hunting takes a lot out of me. And trying to find a new apartment. I haven’t had to worry about money for so long, it’s kinda overwhelming.”

A flicker of a frown crosses Jihoon’s face. “You’re moving out?”

“Yeah. I think it’s time.” Seokmin smiles awkwardly and fiddles with the handle of his cup. “It’s already been a year, and, well, we aren’t college students anymore. I’m thirty-one, I can’t just … waste my life away in the spare guest room of a friend’s apartment, you know?”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything except for a hum and a nod, sipping his tea. He looks small but immeasurably old and wise in a faded green sweater, too hot for the early summer weather outside but plenty comfortable for the constant chill of the A/C in his apartment. While the layout of his home is more or less the same as Soonyoung’s, it’s also so _different_. Seokmin keeps turning his head towards the living room, expecting to see the same tan couch and toys and Pororo DVDs, but all he sees is sleek black leather and finger-smudged empty cups leaving rings on the glass coffee table. It’s an uncomfortable sort of familiarity, like visiting his parent’s home after a couple years and seeing that they’ve rearranged everything and his memories don’t match up anymore.

“It’s not a huge deal,” Seokmin says, more trying to convince himself than his friend. “Soonyoung’s still gonna be my best friend after. I’ve lived on my own for eight years without him, and we were perfectly fine.”

That’s the answer to fixing everything, he keeps trying to tell himself, _delude_ himself. He just has to move out, give them some space, and all these terrible feelings will go away and Soonyoung won’t be mad at him and everything will go back to normal and it’ll all be _fine._

“It was fun having you here while it lasted, anyway,” Jihoon says quietly. The sort of thing someone would say if they appreciate someone’s company more than they want to let on.

Seokmin smiles behind the yellowish tea. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “It was fun.”

When the sky outside darkens to an inky dark blue lit by flames of faint golden streetlamps, he returns to the apartment. It’s a bit of a shock to see Soonyoung sprawled on the couch, cheeks flushed in a distinctly alcoholic manner, tie in a messy knot beneath his rumpled collar.

“Where’ve you been?” Soonyoung asks, not harshly but not exactly nicely, either. Some of his syllables slosh together and mash themselves into paste upon impact.

Seokmin flinches and opens his mouth to tell him to back off, but double-checks the time on the wall clock. Nearly ten. He was away far later than he expected. “Sorry, I was at Jihoon’s. I didn’t realize the time.”

Soonyoung staggers to his feet, swaying slightly. Oh, boy. “You just—jus’ _left_ the girls here? No one around to keep an eye on them?”

Seokmin frowns at him, trying desperately to rebel against the way his heart squeezes and shudders against his lungs. “I’m _sorry._ Seungkwan put them to bed and we both know how deeply they sleep, I figured it would be fine even if I was a little bit late. What about you? Why are you coming home drunk?”

“My boss kept pouring me drinks,” Soonyoung says bitterly, sounding utterly unhappy with the predicament. “What was I supposed to do?”

Seeing Soonyoung drunk is not a new thing for Seokmin—they met in college, after all. But a drunk Soonyoung is fine when he’s happy and bubbly, spilling something on himself and fumbling with his phone, saying stupid things that make Seokmin burst out laughing. A drunk Soonyoung that is clearly upset or pissed or _something,_ with all his negativity possibly aimed at _Seokmin,_ is not fun at all.

“Alright, let’s put you to bed,” Seokmin says.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Soonyoung, for god’s sakes, you’re thirty-two and you’re behaving like you’re nineteen again. I’m putting you the fuck to bed.”

Soonyoung takes a step or two closer to him, eyebrows furrowed into a healthy glower. It looks like it takes him a lot of effort to keep his balance. “Why were you— _hic—_ with Jihoon so late?”

“What does it matter?” Seokmin bursts out, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Soonyoung’s forearm. It’s partially to steady him so he doesn’t fall and smash his skull on something, partially to get a good hold on him so he can drag his ass to his bed. “Look, I’m _sorry_ I was out so late, I should’ve been here to make sure the girls are okay once Seungkwan left. I’m sorry, alright? Now, can you please just—”

Soonyoung’s free arm swings up to grip the back of Seokmin’s neck, and yanks him in for a kiss.

The appropriate response in this situation would be to push him away gently but firmly, tell him he’s drunk and confused and they can talk about this in the morning, and lead him to his bed. The slightly less appropriate response would be for Seokmin to freak out and punch him in the face.

Instead, the hand he’s got on Soonyoung’s arm tightens and pulls in, and Seokmin returns the kiss eagerly. His eyes slip closed almost naturally, moving his free hand to Soonyoung’s shoulder and pressing down hard to remind himself that this is real and actually happening. Soonyoung’s mouth tastes like the strong clean flavour of soju, and the sauce from the barbecued _samgyeopsal_ he ate at the company dinner _,_ and something else, something sweetish and soft and intrinsically part of Soonyoung’s very essence of being, and for a moment Seokmin forgets everything, forgets he shouldn’t be kissing him, forgets this is something he can’t do. In this moment, there is nothing but Kwon Soonyoung and Lee Seokmin, and they’re just two men finding solace in the purest of physical intimacy.

Soonyoung pulls away; Seokmin’s eyes flutter open again; his stomach drops like it’s filled with stones. The dream is over. Soonyoung is going to come to his senses and this will never happen again and Seokmin didn’t have nearly enough time to remember what his lips felt like. Soonyoung only stares at him, though, face red and chest heaving. “ _Christ,_ ” he breathes, voice low and rough and sending pins and needles down every knob and ridge of Seokmin’s spine, before he drags him in _again._

By the time they separate, they’re both out of breath and Seokmin thinks he can’t feel his fingers or toes. His heart is pounding so hard, brain fizzing and sparking like open wires dropped in champagne bottles, and he suddenly feels young and clumsy and ten years younger, a dopey kid with sweaty palms and nervous, excited jitters and the giddiness of experiencing something for the very first time. It’s fireworks and the head rush of his first taste of alcohol and it’s almost embarrassing to be in his thirties and feel this way, but holy shit he’s so in love right now he can barely stop himself.

“Shit,” Soonyoung croaks, “I just kissed you.”

It takes an embarrassingly long time to remember how his mouth should move and start making noises. “Yeah.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Seokmin’s heart sinks—he doesn’t know why he’s so disappointed, despite knowing the answer himself. Doesn’t know why a part of him wishes Soonyoung could’ve said something different. “Yeah.”

Soonyoung stumbles away, and like wet tissue paper they rip apart seamlessly, effortlessly, nothing to keep them together. Their hands untangle and fall to their sides. Seokmin thinks something inside of him is breaking, slowly and steadily, sharp edges cutting into his organs and draining him of everything vital.

“I think I should go to bed,” Soonyoung mumbles, and takes this moment to immediately sway on the spot, knees buckling.

Seokmin catches him just in time and silently leads him to his room, letting him collapse fully-dressed on his bed with a groan. If Soonyoung turns his head to look back at him—if he opens his mouth to say something—Seokmin never finds out. Because the moment he watches his best friend hit the mattress he turns and runs out of the room and towards his own bedroom, fleeing to the safety of darkness and privacy, where only he can see the tears prick his eyes and the regret lace itself into every guilt-ridden tremble of his fingertips.

 

Soonyoung has a terrible hangover the next morning, which makes things slightly easier. Seokmin only has to leave some food and bottles of water by his bedside, keep the girls quiet—he takes them out to the Korean Folk Village for most of the day, lets the activities and events distract him as much as entertain the girls—but by the time Soonyoung recovers, it’s painfully obvious to everyone around them that something has happened that they refuse to talk about.

“Are you and daddy fighting?” Yeona asks Seokmin one day when she’s helping him cut green onions with a pair of kitchen scissors. They’re a bit too big for her small hands, but she’s focused and careful and Seokmin is anxiously double-checking her status every couple of seconds to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. Yubin, where she’s been banging a wooden spoon onto the sides of a pot in the corner, babbles out an agreement. It’s more concise and understandable than usual—she’s starting to actually put together words now.

“What makes you say that, angel?” Seokmin hums, although his insides squeeze and twist and hang heavy like rotten fruit. He pretends he’s busy poring over the kimchi _jjigae_ on the stove.

“You and daddy always talk and laugh, but you don’t anymore.” Yeona furrows her baby-thin eyebrows at the stalk of green onion in her hand, painstakingly lining up the scissors, until— _snip!_ —slivers of green and white fall to the bowl at her feet. “And daddy looks really upset these days. And he keeps staring at you when you’re not looking.”

“Daddy sad,” Yubin proclaims, banging her spoon twice on the metal pot for emphasis. “Theokkie sad.”

“It’s nothing big, girls, don’t you worry,” Seokmin lies. “Your daddy and I are just—having a bit of a rough time right now.” The way he says it sounds like something parents might say when they’re working through a divorce, and he cringes.

“Wanna know what my teacher told us on our first day of class?” Yeona says calmly. “She said that in order to not fight and make up, you have to be pro-act-ive. That means taking the first step because the other person might be too scared. An’ it means you can’t be mean, or else you aren’t being pro-act-ive, you’re being ag-ress-ive. That means being mean.”

“You’re so smart, Yeona,” Seokmin chokes out, because he can’t believe he’s getting life lessons from a _six-year-old._ Never too old to learn something, he supposes. Never too young to know better, either.

“So,” Yubin pipes up, pointing her spoon at Seokmin like a general giving orders to an army of soldiers. “Talk daddy. No mean.”

“Be puh-ro-act-ive,” Yeona adds.

“I will, I will,” Seokmin says, holding up his hands in defeat. “But for now, let’s keep this between us and focus on making dinner for your daddy, okay?”

After yet another painful dinner that ends with Soonyoung and Seokmin silently putting away dishes and not saying a word, Seokmin is forced to come to the realization that it’s true; things can’t go on like this any longer. They will eventually have to confront each other, have to talk about what happened and maybe why—and maybe that “why” will end up breaking Seokmin’s heart, but at the very least he has to know. No matter what, a friendship of thirteen, fourteen years _can’t_ be destroyed because Seokmin’s dumbass self doesn’t know how to move on and get over it.

He enlists Seungkwan’s help and has him and Jihoon take the girls out to the Everland amusement park on the outskirts of Yongin the following Saturday. Jihoon looks apprehensive at the idea of taking care of two young girls for several hours with nobody but a smart-mouthed college student to assist him, but he seems to understand what Seokmin needs to do, and that he needs privacy to do it. Seungkwan, in his usual Seungkwan fashion, is neither shy nor awkward around Jihoon—they’ve probably known each other for years—and drags him out the apartment with Yeona and Yubin happily in tow as easily as if it was Seokmin himself.

Soonyoung doesn’t object to these plans, but he certainly doesn’t seem happy about them, either. He knows what Seokmin wants to do, but he seems unwilling to actually get them started. He kisses the girls goodbye (and discreetly flips Seungkwan the bird when he cheekily asks for a kiss goodbye too) and stays hovering by the door for a few moments longer once they’re out of sight and in the elevators. Seokmin, unenthusiastic about the conversation that’s soon to follow the wake of their absence, fiddles with plushies and dolls strewn about the living room and waits for his nerves to kick him in the ass.

“Soonyoung,” he eventually says, when Soonyoung closes the door and makes as if he’s about to escape to his bedroom. “We need to talk.”

Soonyoung freezes, before slowly turning to face Seokmin. “About what?” he asks cautiously, leaning against the kitchen island counter between two chairs, making sure there’s a hefty amount of space between them.

“About,” Seokmin makes an awkward shrugging motion, “you know. What happened.”

Soonyoung shuffles uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.

This is starting to get old, real fast. “Look,” Seokmin stammers, frustrated because he’s trying to make a goddamn _effort_ to get this sorted out, to get this ugliness behind them, so why is Soonyoung being difficult about it? This is totally unlike him. “Look, some weird shit happened between us. We gotta talk about it or this is going to suck, okay?”

Soonyoung’s jaw twitches. “Talk about what, Seokmin?” he mutters, sounding tired and miserable and strangely old, so so old, old enough to make Seokmin’s heart ache. And Soonyoung should _never_ feel old, not when he still has the unbridled joy of a child, the soul of something springtime and youthful and timeless in its perfection. “That we made out while I was drunk? That was a mistake. We both know it. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Stop being such an asshole, Soon, Jesus _Christ_.” Seokmin can feel his teeth practically grinding together. “I mean, god! I _know_ it was a mistake, but we still gotta talk about it. I don’t know who this sullen, reluctant, passive-aggressive dick standing in front of me is, but he sure as _fuck_ isn’t my best friend.”

“What is there to say, Seok?” Soonyoung says, straightening up and moving away from the island counter and closer to him, voice starting to get louder. “In what possible way is there anything for us to _talk_ about? What explanation can be given? That you’re—you’re in love with me or something?”

“Well, maybe I am!” Seokmin shoots back, just as fiercely.

Soonyoung’s cheeks turn red, eyes widening—he walks forward until he’s just out of arm’s reach, fingers twitching, moving as if he wants to kiss Seokmin or maybe hit him, it’s hard to tell which at this point—and then he looks even angrier. “Why the fuck would you do something like that?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t exactly _want_ to, it just happened!” Seokmin runs his fingers through his hair hard enough to dig into his scalp. Out of all the confession fantasies he had let himself think of, the sweet little daydreams where he pretended he could tell Soonyoung the truth and everything turns out okay, none of them quite turned out like this. “Why the fuck would you kiss me? Are _you_ in love with me or something?”

“Maybe I am!”

Seokmin thinks the world is breaking. The sky is crumbling and falling above him, the earth splitting beneath his feet until he’s falling, falling, falling, but that swooping feeling of dread and shock and nerves that usually ends when he splats on the ground below never comes. “You what?”

Soonyoung flinches like he’s been shot, but he grits his teeth stubbornly and stands his ground. “Yeah! Maybe I’m in love with you too! So fuck you, man.”

The argument is rapidly turning from Yeona’s insistence on being proactive into being downright childish. Embarrassingly enough, Seokmin remembers this is _exactly_ how they used to fight back in their college days, back when Jaemi was there to tell them to shut up and get over it. But there’s no Jaemi this time. No Jaemi to get between them and say that their macho posturing catfight bullshit was stupid and excruciating to watch. No Jaemi, and there never will be again. “No, fuck you! I would’ve been fine just moving out and getting over it and never talking about it ever, and then _you_ had to kiss me! It’s your damn fault.”

“You wanted to move out!” Soonyoung practically yells. “You’re the one who suddenly said you were done, you wanted to leave, like it was perfectly okay for you to get up and walk out of my life!”

How is this even happening right now? “I wasn’t walking out! The last time we lived together was during our undergrad, how can you say that when we’ve spent eight years living apart and were just fine?”

“Because—” Despite all his anger, Soonyoung looks oddly helpless. Miserable. Desperate. He looks like a tortured man. Seokmin doesn’t know what’s louder, the red-hot fury pounding like a headache against his temples and the back of his eyelids, or the frantic beat of his own weak, pathetic heart. How long has Soonyoung loved him? Was it only recently? Was it a few months back? Was it at the exact same moment Seokmin fell for him too? He’s never wanted to know the answer to something more than he does now. “Because that was before all of this! Before you—you came here and did all this for me, before you started cooking dinner for me and waking me up in the mornings and taking the girls to school! Now you’re _family,_ and now you’re trying to leave like that means nothing and now I’m in love with you and everything is fucked!”

There’s a brief moment of silence between them, just as heavy and purposeful as their last five minutes of shouting. Seokmin knows he should do something, say something, but it’s hard to think when there’s a hurricane howling inside his chest.

“This is fucked up,” Soonyoung finally says, chest heaving, eyes bright and vehement. “This is _fucked up_ , okay? My _wife_ died a year and a half ago and suddenly I’m in love with my best friend? Seokmin, this is _not_ okay!”

Seokmin’s temper flares, stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, and before he realizes it he’s got his hands on Soonyoung’s chest and he’s shoving him.

“I _know_ it’s not okay!” he spits out. “You think I’m cool with this or something? You think I wanted this? I was friends with Jaemi before she was friends with you, Soonyoung! I was your best man at your _fucking wedding!”_

He pushes him again, harder, and Soonyoung actually stumbles back a few steps. Seokmin can’t think straight, can’t even see, tears are blurring his vision enough that the world looks like the fuzzy bottom of a goldfish bowl. “I gave a fucking toast! I made jokes about all the dumb things you did when you were dating Jaemi, I-I had a whole goddamn speech about the future you two will have together and sickness and health and till-death-do-you-part!”

He shoves him once more, and the worst thing about it is that Soonyoung isn’t even fighting back, he’s just taking it. And it’s wrong, it’s all wrong, because the few times they fought when they were younger it was all fists and teeth and nails, and that was how they did it, that was how they got all the anger out of their system so all that’s left is to laugh and apologize and forgive. But Soonyoung’s face is blank, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, and the more Seokmin acts out against him the shittier he feels.

“I loved Jaemi,” he hisses through his tears, “just as much as I loved you. You two were my _best friends_. And when she died and you were drinking yourself numb after the funeral, I was _right_ there beside you, wasn’t I? Right there with another fucking bottle of soju in my hand!”

He moves to push him again, but his hands are trembling so hard it saps out all his anger, all his hurt, all his energy. Instead, his fists land softly on Soonyoung’s shirt and stay there, shaking, as the tears spill from Seokmin’s eyes.

“It wasn’t like I wanted this to happen,” he says miserably, hanging his head, hating every inch of himself.

There’s a long moment between them where neither of them speaks and neither of them moves. It’s Soonyoung who acts first, stepping forwards and slowly wrapping his arms around Seokmin, pulling him in close until Seokmin’s arms are crushed in-between their chests and Soonyoung’s got a hand in his hair, warm and soothing.

Seokmin weeps wretchedly into his shirt, even as every fiber of his instincts tells him to pull away. “W-wuh-why are you—”

“What the fuck else can I do?” Soonyoung whispers, hoarse. “I’m so confused, but I’m not good at lying to myself. You smile, and it’s like the entire world grows brighter. You look after my girls like they’re your own and I go crazy with happiness. You give your attention to another man, and I’m so jealous I can barely think straight. You’re standing here in front of me crying, in pain, and I can’t rationalize this. I can’t tell myself no. All I want to do is hold you.”

Seokmin makes loud gulping noises as he struggles to reign himself in, control his breathing. He feels Soonyoung’s head turn and warm, wet pressure spreads from a spot by his temple. He’s too afraid to look up and see if it came from Soonyoung’s lips. “What do we do now?”

“We take things slow, I guess, and we think it through carefully.” Soonyoung’s voice is weak and unsure, but the arms around Seokmin are as steady as tree trunks. “We both loved Jaemi, and I think neither of us are sure if this will disrespect her memory. But—” he cuts himself off and his entire torso shakes with a shuddering sob of his own, “—but I think if—if this were to happen—if I were to l-love somebody and want to spend my life with them—I think she’d, she’d be happy that it was with you.”

His voice tightens up at his last words and he lets out a despairing, heart-wrenching cry, until suddenly he’s not the one comforting Seokmin but instead clinging to him, holding onto him as if he’s hoping Seokmin has all the answers to heal his hurts. “She loved you _so much_ , Seok.”

His shoulders are shaking, dampness seeping into Seokmin’s shirt by his shoulder. Seokmin wriggles his arms free to wrap around Soonyoung’s neck, to hold him as Soonyoung’s body wracks with sobs like a child, the kind of tears too big for him to hold inside. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” Soonyoung whimpers.

“I know,” Seokmin chokes out, blubbering a bit. “I know.”

“I loved her so much. And I love _you._ ”

“I know.”

“Fuck, Seok _—_ I love you so _much._ ”

Seokmin closes his eyes tight as tears clump his eyelashes together. It’s an odd thing, to be in his thirties and cry like this, cry his heart out. Cry like he doesn’t have to act like he’s too old to remember what tears are anymore. “I know. Me too. I love you too.”

He presses his lips to a spot on Soonyoung’s forehead right above his eyebrow, and then Soonyoung cranes his neck up to seek him, blindly, weakly. Seokmin kisses him, and Soonyoung kisses him back, and despite all the insecurity and grief the two of them share, everything comes together and feels right in the world.

 

“Yeona? Yubin? Can daddy and Seokmin talk to you for a minute?”

The girls haul themselves up onto the couch, while Seokmin and Soonyoung bend down to their knees in front of them so they can look the children in the eye. For a moment they glance at each other, unsure of how to start, so Seokmin speaks first, tentatively, in a low and soft voice. “The truth is, Yeona, Yubin, I—your Uncle Seokmin is in love with your daddy. He loves him very much. Not in the way you love friends or family, but in the way your mommy loved your daddy.”

Soonyoung jumps in nervously, running his thumb over his knuckles and digging into the spaces between bones. “And daddy loves him back, the same way as mommy. Do you understand?”

Yeona looks at them for a moment, her round face confused and then understanding. It’s hard to tell if she’s upset with this bit of news—Seokmin is once again struck with the realization that Yeona is more grown up than she’s given credit for, and he’s suddenly left wondering if age really means anything. Thirty-year-olds can feel as heart-fluttering and nervous as though they’re sixteen again. Six-year-old children can be every bit as wise as an adult. The universe is a vast place where time is meaningless and a lifetime goes by quicker than a blink, and he thinks he can spent an eternity in the cosmos wondering about this and never come up with an answer.

“Do,” she says slowly, “you not love mommy anymore, daddy?”

Oh shit. Oh, this was exactly what they were afraid of.

“No! No, sweetheart, no, no, no.” Soonyoung strokes her hair and runs his fingers through the strands, choking up slightly. Behind his back, where he hopes the girls can’t see, Seokmin rests his palm right along Soonyoung’s spine to help ground him.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath and says, “Baby, I can never forget mommy. I will always love her. Even if I were to fall in love with somebody else—if I were to spend the rest of my life and raise you girls with somebody else—I will still never, never stop loving your mommy. It’s just that—well, Seokmin has been with me all this time, and I love him too. He’s not going to replace mommy, but he’s here to, to maybe make things happier for all of us. Is that okay, Yeona?”

Yeona thinks about it, staring at her knees for an uncomfortably long moment. With every passing second, Seokmin’s stomach clenches with worry. Yubin taps her little feet together and watches quietly, too young to really understand what exactly is happening, but smart enough to know it must be important.

After what feels like an eternity, Yeona raises her head. “Does this mean Uncle Seokmin is Daddy Seokmin now?”

Soonyoung makes a weak, heartfelt noise in the back of his throat and smiles, eyes watery and gleaming.

Seokmin is smiling too even as heat broils in the back of his eye sockets, heart lurching painfully in his chest, and he leans up to press a kiss to Yeona’s forehead. “If you want me to be, angel,” he says, stumbling over the words as he tries very, very hard not to cry. “If it’s okay for me to be your dad. I love you girls already so, so much.”

Yeona smiles at him, a perfect little smile. When she grows older, she’ll remember this moment. She’ll remember being sat down on the couch and talked to, but she won’t really remember why. At some point, buried deep within a part of her mind that disappears when a child grows up, she already knew that Seokmin was a part of their family. She’ll grow up and she’ll wonder why they had to talk to her about it when it was already so obvious.

“Well, I think it’s cool having two daddies instead of one,” she declares proudly. “The kids at school are gonna be _so_ jealous of me.” Her smile slips off her face. “Wait! But if I call for one of you, how would you know which daddy I’m talking about?”

Out of everything she could’ve been upset about, that’s the only thing she says. Soonyoung snorts, pressing his face into the couch cushion to muffle his laughter, slightly hysterical in his relief. Seokmin fights back his own case of the giggles and says, “Well, let’s start brainstorming then. We could try Dad, Dadsy, Dadders—”

Soonyoung shifts his body so he can swing a kick at Seokmin’s butt. “Over my dead body will my baby girl be caught calling you ‘Dadders’, Seokmin. Oh my god.”

“—Other Daddy—”

“That’s ridiculous! Stop!”

“—Daddy Number Two—”

Yeona falls back into the couch and laughs into her palms, howling “Daddy Number Two! Number Two!”, as Soonyoung topples sideways with the force of his own laughter. Yubin still doesn’t really know what’s going on, but she claps her hands and shrieks anyway at the sight of her sister and father utterly losing it.

When Yubin is a little older, her fathers will ask her about this moment, and they’ll ask if she remembers it. She’ll scoff and say yes, but the truth is, she won’t. Children are funny like that.

 

By the time summer is nearing its end and the girls will have to go back to school soon, Seokmin has situated himself firmly into their home, abandoning his search for a new place to stay. Soonyoung had made it _abundantly_ clear (some of his efforts often involved hands and tongues and not exactly a whole lot of words) that he was not moving out anytime soon. The weird thing about suddenly becoming a permanent member of the family is that, in the end, things have barely changed at all.

“You’re such a lazy piece of shit, Soon, oh my god.” Seokmin opens the blinds and rips the covers off of Soonyoung’s form where it’s curled into a ball pill bug-style in the center of the mattress. “I left this bed half an hour ago and you’re still not up?”

“Gimme five more minutes,” Soonyoung mumbles into his pillow, groaning when Seokmin yanks that away too. His voice turns high and whiny. “Babe, please.”

Seokmin frowns down at him, unmoved. “Your coffee is gonna go cold and gross and I’m not making a new batch. Get up, I can’t keep checking up on you like this, I gotta go make the girls breakfast.”

Soonyoung shifts onto his back and holds his arms straight out into the air, stretching towards the ceiling. “Kiss me awake.”

“You’re gross,” Seokmin declares, although he crawls on top of Soonyoung anyway to give him a proper peck. “And your morning breath is disgusting. How did Jaemi put up with you?”

Soonyoung snickers and presses his palms to Seokmin’s sides—not to try and hold him there, or to pull or push him, simply to touch and feel the rise and fall of Seokmin’s various muscles as he breathes. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Ugh, I _hate_ it.” Seokmin tries to pull away, but Soonyoung’s hands finally tighten as he grins cheekily up at him. “Soon, you have to get up and go to work.” Soonyoung chooses to respond by pulling him down to kiss him again. “You can’t try and distract me, you idiot, you’ll still have to go to work anyway. And don’t forget Seungkwan’s coming by later today to babysit, so you have to leave out money for me to pay him. And tomorrow, Jihoon is coming to help us put together that Ikea bed for Yubin, she won’t sleep another night in that crib the minute she turns four. And also—”

“I wanna go to Everland this weekend,” Soonyoung hums against his lips, continuing to try and find ways to not get out of bed. “Let’s take the girls and go. Nice family trip.”

“Why not?” Seokmin manages to say between Soonyoung’s lazy kisses, cheeks flushing pink like a bashful little kid again. It’s a little embarrassing how sheepish and flustered he gets sometimes, but Soonyoung seems to like it, so he’s starting to not mind. If Jihoon’s around to witness it, though, he tends to find it horrific. “It’s your car, anyway.”

“Thanks for being so unromantic, darling.”

“I don’t see any flowers or chocolates from you, so. Um. Checkmate?”

Soonyoung cackles at him and finally rolls out of bed. Seokmin watches him get up and stretch and thinks his heart is pulling a Grinch and growing two sizes larger with the amount of love he has for this man, and for his kids— _their_ kids—and how utterly grateful he is for them to let him into their life. Yubin’s already starting to call him _daddy_ instead of _Theokkie_ and the first time she did it he nearly started to cry.

“Are you going grocery shopping later today?” Soonyoung asks as he buttons up his shirt for work—wrongly at first, which he has to undo and correctly button up again—and Seokmin melts at the sheer domesticity of it. How natural this feels.

“Yeah, I will. I’ll get stuff for dinner and maybe pick up something special.”

“Special?” Soonyoung pads towards the bathroom to brush his teeth, calling over his shoulder, “Like what?”

Seokmin leans back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling, its familiar white corners, the rectangular beams of yellow sunlight streaming through the windows. He thinks he can see fourteen years’ worth of memories and happiness and grief and joy and new hope curling this way and that with the tiny, miniscule dust motes. He smiles.

“What do you think about tangerines?”

 

_(“Seokmin,” Jaemi says one day, just the two of them. Seokmin came over a bit early, and Soonyoung hasn’t even come home from work yet. Yeona and Yubin are both asleep, and the two of them are sitting at the kitchen counter drinking her fruity wine, something light and fun. He watches her peel oranges, taking tangerines from the green bowl on the counter and dividing the loot evenly between them. “Soonyoung and I have been talking recently. About what would we do if, you know, something happens to one of us.”)_

_(“Aw, jeez, Jaejae,” Seokmin complains, “that’s a real dark subject to be talking about when you’ve got two beautiful girls to raise.”)_

_(“That’s just it.” Jaemi bites her lip, unusually serious. “We’ve got our girls to think of now, we need to know they’ll be cared for. So we were talking about what would happen if one of us was, well, gone. It just feels like something you have to think of, you know? I mean, I know it’s not gonna happen to us, but still, we wanted to have some sort of contingency plan.”)_

_(“Well, you know you can count on me, right? I’m the kids’ godfather, if anything happened to either one of you, I’ll be right here to do what I can.”)_

_(Jaemi smiles. “I know, Seokmin. It’s not just the girls I’m worried about. After we talked about it I just kept thinking, and it kept bothering me, and I … if anything were to happen to me, I think of Soonyoung and I just, I don’t know. I’m worried he’ll fall apart, you know he does that. I’m worried he’ll take it as the end of the world and I won’t be there to help put him back together.”)_

_(“I won’t let him.” Seokmin tries to make his voice as confident and sincere as possible, hoping it’s enough to convey some form of comfort. “Jaejae, you know you and Soonyoung are, like, the most important people in the world to me. I will do_ everything _in my power to look after your family, always.”)_

_(Jaemi takes his hand. Her eyes are bright, maybe with tears, maybe with her own natural inner sunlight, it’s hard to tell. In that moment, she reminds Seokmin startlingly of her husband, of the cracks in their happy-go-lucky personalities where the sun and the stars shine through and make them the most beautiful people in the world, and he loves her all the more for it.)_

_(“You’ll take care of him for me, wouldn’t you, Seok?” she says quietly. “If anything were to happen to me, you’ll make sure he and the girls are taken care of. You’ll make sure he’s happy.”)_

_(Seokmin squeezes her hand. They smell of orange peels. “Of course.” He says it like it’s a promise. “Of course I will.”)_

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: this almost was a Hogwarts!AU. In the end, the idea of hot single dad Soonyoung was far more compelling. It was originally going to be more of a Neighbours!AU where Seokmin has an unheatlhy crush on his hot single dad neighbour. Then I watched the first season of Full House and BEST FRIENDS MOVING IN TOGETHER TO TAKE CARE OF KIDS AND GETTING TOO DEEP INTO THOSE FAMILY FEELS was even more interesting. Thanks a whole bunch to Lee who, as always, gives me the best ideas and encourages me every step of the way. Fucking love you....*strums guitar* bitch.
> 
> Anyways, I'm so glad this fic fest happened, because quite frankly soonseok is an amazing ship that I think everyone ships ON SOME LEVEL and the amount of fics in its tag is pretty depressing. We deserve a bit more of the Sun and the Stars in our life.


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